


Twisting

by I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning



Series: Blood of Angels Multiverse [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood Drinking, Extremely Dubious Consent, Insanity, Lover Abuse, M/M, Obi-Wan With Wings, Self-Harm, Sith Obi-Wan, Vaderkin, Vampire Anakin, Very Broken Minds, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 17:27:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12775881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning/pseuds/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning
Summary: The crossover between “The Blood of Angels” and “Angel Fallen, Angel Bleeding” that has been asked for. Minus the happy ending. It's an... ambiguous ending.





	Twisting

 

Obi-Wan Kenobi knew he was losing it when he peered into the mirror and saw himself, but with golden eyes.

He panicked, just a little.

He raced to Vader's side, gripping his robes, begging him to  _look in his eyes—_

Startled, Vader gripped his shoulders in return, complied, and asked, “What's wrong?”

“What color are they?” Obi-Wan pleaded.

“Blue? What is this about, Obi-Wan? Did you get angry and break another vase?”

Obi-Wan blinked at him. He hadn't been  _angry_ when he broke the vase. Dear me, no. “...No.”

“You're alright,” Vader soothed. “Still beautiful and Light for me.”

Obi-Wan gave a nod, wondering if the Force saw the universe the way Lord Vader did— if it  _did_ , that would explain so much... Obi-Wan's  _entire life,_ actually— and walked back to the dressingroom and its full-length mirror.

He observed it from across the room, at first. Refusing to move into a place where it could reflect him.

Instead he stood stone still, peered at it, yanked a feather from his wing, and twisted it between his fingers while he waited.

He saw a flicker of motion in it, and then his reflection  _walked past._

Eyes narrowing to slits, Obi-Wan moved closer, still staying out of the mirror's range.

Nothing happened.

And then his reflection appeared again and  _walked out of the mirror into the room,_ dragging Vader along with him.

Obi-Wan stared at them in absolute disgust. Did his life  _really_ need to get  _more_ awful,  _more_ hellish than it already was?

Then he started to tremble.

His knees folded and he found himself curling up on the floor, wrapping wings around himself to hide under the feathers.

It had never protected him from  _his_ Vader, but he felt his options to be fairly  _fripping_ limited, thank you.

 

* * *

 

Former Emperor Vader stared at the blue-eyed Obi-Wan in stunned disbelief. “ _What_ have you done now?” he wailed to his own, beautifully mad creature. “Did we really just walk through a mirror?  _What drug do you have me on?_ ”

“It's called GlitterKenobi.” The Fallen one ruffled his feathers, blinked at his counterpart, then shrugged. “If there's one of him, there's got to be another one of you.”

“What does it say about me that I'm relieved to be  _here_ instead of back with my grandson?”

A blue eye peered out at them from the mound of feathers. “ _Grandson?_ You're even crazier than I am.”

Vader's Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes. “You're not crazy at  _all,_ ” he retorted, tone quite judgmental.

“Love, I don't think I can survive two of you. Not if he's a tenth as mad as you are.”

Golden Eyes shrugged. “We'll find the other you, and then he'll torture me for information, we'll all frip, and fall asleep bloody and sated.”

Vader stifled a groan and followed the other when he flounced out the door.

 

* * *

 

Still Emperor Vader had just leaned back on his throne, realizing Obi-Wan hadn't joined him, when the doors at the end of the hall flew open and in swaggered the man in question.

Vader sat upright, staring.

Swaggering? Since when?

As the figure drew closer, Vader caught sight of glimmering gold in those eyes. He lunged up off the throne and had the impostor against a pillar in an instant, hand at his throat, fangs barred, fury boiling off him in waves. “Where is  _my angel_ ?” he hissed.

“In your bedroom.”

For the first time, Vader sent a glance to the other figure.

He looked to the Obi-Wan grinning beneath his tight grip, then back again. “What are you?”

“Here to play,” 'Obi-Wan' explained, voice sultry.

_Disturbing._

“It doesn't look like he wants to play,” the other Vader demurred. “When can we go home? I want to tear out Snoke's throat.”

“Snoke, Snoke, Snoke. He's seeing a new physician. There's no point in visiting him until  _after._ ”

The  _other_ him frowned. “Why not?”

“Because last time I visited him he was on  _three_ different medications and  _still_ couldn't keep it up. The new doctor seems promising, but we have to let him  _work._ Snoke's even older than you, so it might take a while.”

Still Emperor Vader tilted his head to the side, eyeing  _both_ impostors at once. “I feel like I should be slightly insulted.”

“What? Oh, you're younger than my Vader is.”

The older Vader threw his hands in the air, then planted them on his hips. “Really,  _Lord Whore?_ I don't seem to remember  _complaints_ last time I  _fripped_ your ass into the floor. I  _really doubt_ he's going to offer you something better than me.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “Of course he can, simpleton. He can offer  _two of you._ ”

“You want a threesome where there's two of me?”

A slight whimper escaped Obi-Wan. “Why do you think I went to all this trouble to arrange a meeting?”

“Enough,” growled Still Emperor Vader, silencing the interlopers. “You're both coming with me to check to make sure  _my_ Obi-Wan is alright. And we need names to keep all of you apart.”

“Half of that is very simple,” was the prim reply in Obi-Wan's voice. “I am Darth Whore. Your  _pet_ is Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

Slowly, all of Vader's attention shifted to the creature almost purring beneath his hand. “Who gave you such a ridiculous name?”

“Oh,” his counterpart muttered, “it's  _very_ pertinent _._ ”

“Something is pert,” Whore agreed. “Now, as for you boys, I'd just call one of you Old and the other Sexy—”

Old frowned. “Whore—”

“Fine, fine. I agree. You're about to fulfill one of my more enjoyable fantasies. May as well make it lurid. We'll call  _mine_ Vader, and  _you who has me by the throat,_ Anakin. Since you want your Obi-Wan to remain Light, don't you? You don't want him to Fall.”

The other Vader looked surprised.

“I earned my title,” Emperor Vader growled, squeezing his fingers just a little.

Neither of the guests seemed to mind.

“Of course you did, darling, but you're putting so much effort into keeping your Obi-Wan from Falling, it's almost as much effort as he put into keeping  _you_ from doing so. Quite cute, actually. Except for how  _dull_ your sexlife is.”

“Says the man who fripps my grandson.”

Still Emperor Vader arched an eyebrow. “The two of you seem rather dysfunctional. I begin to understand why the Dark warned me against turning Obi-Wan.”

“You got a  _warning_ ?” Vader whined.

“Now, now,” Whore chided, “it would have ruined the surprise, now wouldn't it. Dearest Anakin, we come from a world where Vader no longer has an Empire.”

Imposter Vader scowled. “You want to explain  _why_ ?”

“If you insist,” Whore agreed cheerfully, as if he'd just been itching to be asked. “I took it away from him and burned it down.”

“Not seeing why I should bed you,” the Still Emperor retorted. “Carbonite seems like a better option.”

Vader pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why didn't I think of that? I could have propped your hole open so it would still be accessible while you were fairly harmless.”

“See? This—  _this_ is why it is worth having two of you,” Whore murmured, voice filled with adoration.

A small smile twisted Dethroned Vader's lip.

It horrified Still Emperor Vader. “What has he  _done_ to you?”

“Do you want the list alphabetically, or chronologically?” the other Vader sighed back.

And then Whore was out of the Emperor's grip and sashaying for the door. “Let's go!”

“Whore, if you think I'm going to  _forget_ about  _Rey_ , you're crazy. I'm going to  _find out_ who she is.”

“Maybe you'll loosen my tongue with your very talented dick.”

The Emperor rubbed at his ears, fairly certain he was going to end up with a headache.

The Dethroned Vader watched him in something akin to pity.

 

* * *

 

The Dethroned Vader stepped back into what  _had_ been a pristine bedroom, and was now filled with...

Well,  _kark._

“Looks like you broke him,” he observed.

Obi-Wan still had the paintbrush in hand, dipping it into a wound on his arm. He stared up at the three of them, freezing very still.

Vader looked to see how the Emperor was coping.

Not... very... well.

That Vader's eyes looked huge in his face as he stared at the giant, jagged letters painted across the walls.

_I am not crazy_

_I am not crazy_

_I am frip frip frip_

_Not crazy_

_Vader please_

_Enough now please?_

_NOT CRAZY_

_… I'm crazy, aren't I?_

Those last words were small, written like a mournful whisper.

The Emperor rushed to his angel, snatching the paintbrush from him and closing a hand over the wound to stifle the bleeding. “Darling, oh, Obi-Wan, it's alright. I'm not sure where they're from, but they'll go away sometime. I can see them too.”

“What I want is very simple,” Whore explained, stripping out of his dark robes.

Obi-Wan's eyes went wide in absolute horror. “W— please—  _what_ ?”

“He means sex,” Dethroned Vader explained. “And for now  _I'm_ Vader,  _he's_ Whore,  _you_ are Obi-Wan, and the other one is Anakin.”

Obi-Wan clung to his version of the man who had betrayed him, as if perhaps that man could save his sanity.

Maybe he  _could._

Vader personally doubted it.

“I will  _not_ be called Anakin. If  _Whore_ is an acceptable name, then  _I'm_ Vader and  _you're_ Dethroned, since I haven't  _lost_ my kingdom.”

“Seems acceptable,” Whore purred, casually stripping away the last thing Vader possessed that he  _hadn't_ stolen: his name.

And then Whore was naked and pressed against “Vader” and kissing him, and “Vader” decided talking should probably just stop for now, and Dethroned wondered just why he had to actually be here for this.

 

* * *

 

Vader felt uncomfortably interested in the other, naked Obi-Wan who bled darkness into the Force.

His own Obi-Wan trembled in his arms.

“You're not crazy,” Vader whispered. “ _They_ are.”

Obi-Wan's forehead wrinkled.

The eyes went wider as Whore stalked over to them and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Vader's mouth.

And Vader felt almost as startled as Obi-Wan. They stood still as Whore pulled back, a lazy smile on his face. “You've been holding back with him of late. Fearing to push him over the edge. You've been gentle, but you  _miss_ his pain.”

“No,” Vader shot back. “I don't. His misery was boring.”

“Oh, but I'm not miserable when you hurt me,” Whore whispered against his ear.

The Force  _shuddered_ with the truth of Whore's words, and then he was bleeding, and Vader  _could not_ hold back longer. He'd been so  _patient,_ so  _careful,_ so  _thoughtful_ with his Obi-Wan, and now the Dark Side had dropped this other, insane creature in his lap to tend to his needs.

He bit his throat, tasting the heady drug of angel blood. It had been so long since he last had a hit. So  _damn long—_

He could feel Whore growing hard against him, and the moan that escaped the angel's throat left Vader aching with need.

He pulled away to divest himself of clothing, recognizing his counterpart doing the same.

_Good to know I age well. But a grandson?_

That either meant he had another child, or in that other world, one of the twins had survived.

He wasn't sure what he thought of  _either_ of those ideas.

He made an abortive move for the bed, but they didn't get that far.

 

* * *

 

In the first flurry of teeth and nails and rutting, there  _certainly_ wasn't room for Dethroned. He waited and watched, knowing full well Whore would not tire quickly.

Hell, with  _two_ lovers now, he was curious to see how long Whore lasted.

There was a familiarity to Vader's movements, so Dethroned assumed he'd abused his own angel in this way before... but there was also a hesitance and a rusty quality as well.

_It's been a long time. And it came from a place of hate that doesn't exist anymore._

Curious.

Vader himself still hated Whore. Hated him with  _all_ his being.

_And yet I cannot rid myself of him. Pathetic indeed, Lord Dethroned._

He found himself comfortable with that level of disgrace.

Obi-Wan watched the two rub against one another as Vader scraped teeth along Whore's skin. Obi-Wan's expression turned to a frown, then indignant.

Strangely enough, Dethroned found he  _knew_ Obi-Wan. 

_You hate it when he touches you, yet you feel jealous when he touches another._

He glided over, and found it amusing how uncomfortable Obi-Wan seemed due to Dethroned's nakedness.

“Whore will manipulate him into breaking bones, tearing out feathers, bleeding him and making him suffer.”

Obi-Wan shrank back, away from him in horror, trembling like a leaf about to die at frost's touch.

“This is good, Obi-Wan. Allow your lover to take out his baser needs on someone other than you so he can be gentle with you.”

“Are you going to hurt me?” Obi-Wan whispered, seeming to recognize that his own champion was far too engrossed to pay attention to his own responsibility's plight.

“No. My Obi-Wan wants pain. But for a while now, I've wanted something... softer. I've dealt in pain a long time. I've seen many things. And I will go away once our business here is complete.”

Obi-Wan stopped backing away, holding still as Dethroned glided nearer.

“I want to make you feel good,” Dethroned whispered in his ear. “I want to make you forget your love's infidelity. Your Light is beautiful, and I was a fool to shatter it in my own Obi-Wan. I have paid bitterly for that arrogance.”

When he leaned in to kiss him, Obi-Wan did not pull away.

He caressed Obi-Wan's body, smiling to himself as he recognized how touch-starved and desperate Obi-Wan felt.

On the edge of believing his sanity shattered forever, he needed someone to save him.

And Vader was busy.

Dethroned whispered soothing words in his ear, his gestures more concerned than demanding.

And eventually, Obi-Wan yielded to him, squeezed his eyes shut, and surrendered to pretending that this was _his_ Vader.

 

* * *  
  


Vader sprawled, dazed, wondering just how far Whore meant it when he said he loved pain.

He whispered the most maddening taunts, he was  _frustrating,_ he was  _intoxicating—_

Vader bit Whore's lower lip, tight enough to break skin. It would cause pain, quite a bit of pain, throughout the rest of the evening and beyond, but Whore only chuckled.

Vader rolled his head to the side, realized Dethroned had Obi-Wan against the wall.

The angel's ankles were wrapped around him, his head was lowered, his eyes closed, face twisted as Dethroned gently thrust within him.

Obi-Wan sighed against his shoulder and relaxed a little.

Vader arched an eyebrow. This was something different than usual.  _Just what exactly did the other me say or do?_ He'd need to find out. He'd like for Obi-Wan to surrender to him without the self loathing Obi-Wan usually clung so tightly to.

“Did I use you up?” fretted Whore beside him.

Vader smirked. “Certainly not. But answer me this.” He leaned over the other Sith, twisting his arm into a lock that had to hurt like hell, but Whore simply shivered and smiled, beaming his pleasure. “If  _he_ touches  _me,_ is that masturbation?”

“It's heaven,” Whore replied, forming the words carefully to draw attention to his tongue and lips.

_What are you?_ Vader wondered, delighted by his find.

Or... no...

_I am_ his  _find, if any of this is to be believed._

When he woke up to find this simply a very pure glitterstim trip, he was going to be disappointed as hell.

A whimper from Obi-Wan drew his attention again.

Obi-Wan had his hands in Dethroned's hair and was desperately kissing him, tears slipping down his cheeks.

Dethroned murmured something soothing, his pace still patient.

The terrible tension that had been twining around Obi-Wan's Force signature since that terrible day with the writing on the window was untangling itself, easing.

“What is he saying?” Vader asked, distracted from Whore's teeth pressing bruises into his throat.

“He's apologizing. I can't stand it when he gets this way. He wants to  _make love,_ make me  _feel better,_ make me feel special and apologize for everything he's done to me.”

Vader looked back to Whore, eyes wide.

“He'll get it out of his system so we can go home and carry on with our  _real_ lives.” Whore gave a decided nod.

Vader shook his head. “You prefer it when he hurts you?”  
“Crave,” Whore whispered back, and soon Anakin realized, with some horror, just exactly how much this man meant that single word.

It wasn't enough pity and shock to stay his hand, however.

To be allowed— even coaxed and provoked— to abuse the angel beside him—?

Vader's hunger had been going unsatiated for a long time now. Ever since he realized he  _couldn't_ keep harming Obi-Wan, or hell would fall on Vader's head. But this Obi-Wan was willing, so willing, and it would leave no lasting impact on  _his_ Obi-Wan—

So, yes.

_Suffer for me._

Whore's keening wails made Anakin smile, and he was happy to take the angel with little preparation other than blood.

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan caught sight of them over Dethroned's shoulder and shuddered, remembering all the times  _he'd_ been the one beneath—

Beneath—

That other Obi-Wan had expected him to call  _that man_ Anakin?

“You have been so cruelly used,” Dethroned murmured, pressing a kiss to his throat. “I miss your beautiful eyes. I am sorry I turned them gold.”

Obi-Wan blinked, then realized Dethroned didn't care it was the  _wrong_ Obi-Wan.

He shivered as Dethroned decided the slow game was over, winding them both up to a fevered pitch.

Obi-Wan breathed into his mouth with sloppy lip caresses until his body tensed and spilled.

Dethroned came inside him, but didn't stop kissing his face, neck, snaking his tongue into Obi-Wan's mouth and gently rubbing his ass with strong hands.

Obi-Wan clung to him when he pulled free, the sad ache filling his heart again. “Stay with me,” he murmured, too lonely to care.

Dethroned gathered him up and carried him bridal-style to the bed, where he nestled Obi-Wan into pillows and covers, insisted he drink water he held to his lips—

Neither paid much attention to the vicious coupling on the floor nearby.

Dethroned joined him on the bed, drawing him close with strong arms.

Obi-Wan relaxed into him.

This was probably as close to happiness as he would ever come.

So he closed his eyes, stilled his tears, and focused only on the relaxed and tingling body Dethroned had so lovingly pampered.

This would have to be enough.

 

 

 


End file.
